Yuletide Yearnings
by The Konfessionist
Summary: Winona Parker's given an anonymous gift for Christmas and she's just /dying/ to find out who sent it to her... who could've possibly known that she wanted to gift Mrs. Palmer's famous eggnog pie to her father? (Minor swearing, fluff, a bit silly and sweet, based on characters found in Inventor's Absolution)


**A/N : Hey newcomers! Here's my Christmas one-shot for Winona Parker and Butch DeLoria over on my profile under the name of Inventor's Absolution. It's not _necessary_ to read that in order to read this, but there are a couple references to the story that might not be understood unless you read it (no pressure, it's only an _awesome story_ and I shamelessly invite you to go and read it for funsies c:). This doesn't feature any _major_ spoilers concerning Inventor's Absolution so don't worry if you think it'll ruin anything if you decide to check it out. It also has a consistent schedule of being updated every Friday unless otherwise stated ahead of time due to unforeseen events, or posted more often because of good events.**

 **Otherwise, this one-shot can either be canon to the IA universe, or not, as that's all up to the reader. I hope you enjoy it and if you did be sure to review and read some of the other junk I've got posted on my profile!**

 **Happy reading, happy writing!**

 **~Konfessionist, signing out**

* * *

 **December 16th, 2276**

Christmas time made its rounds to Vault 101 once again, and with it came the usual changes that shook up the conventional schedule for all vault dwellers; various sections of the vault were decorated by maintenance such as the atrium, diner, and hallways of the living quarters; the cafeteria jukebox and intercom played instrumental holiday hits rather than the usual smooth tunes; the memo tickers around the vault gave reminders to be kind to one another and to not drink too much eggnog; Andy, the resident Mr. Handy, was costumed yearly, and for this Christmas it was reindeer antlers mounted on one of his three sensor eyes while a bow of silver bells scarfed his jet propeller—causing him to jingle and jangle as he hovered about the hallways to greet dwellers _(Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Good Yule, and Happy Holidays! Happy Kwanzaa to you, Mr. and Mrs. Adisa—please remind your little one to refrain from pulling on my bells, thank you!);_ the infirmary passed out candy canes instead of grape suckers to patients; there was a tree lighting ceremony in the atrium; and Old Lady Palmer's apartment always smelled of gingerbread, cinammon, or sweet glazed apples whenever one walked by as the calendar crept closer to Christmas Day.

Forget bread pudding from the diner at this time of year—Old Lady Palmer was the only baker worth mentioning in the vault, and when the holidays struck she had a waiting list for baked goods several yards long. She'd only take a handful of requests from the residents every Christmas, and when it was on a 'first come, first serve' basis, you were _surely_ the envy of your neighbors if you came home with a cinnamon apple pie, or a beautifully decorated plate of Christmas cookies.

Winona Parker was one of those envious neighbors this evening, as she straddled the top rung of a tall ladder to afix a _massive_ wreath in the atrium; it circled the Overseer's office window, where the porthole glass looked through the wreath's center to the atrium below. The wreath was decorated with yellow and blue baubles and tinsel and the face of Pip, Vault-Tec's mascot, donning a Santa hat.

"There's always next year, Winnie!" Amata called up to her in encouragement from where she stood at the base of the rickety ladder to hold it in place. "We can pick up a fruit cake from the cafeteria after work, you know your dad'll love it."

"It's not the _same,_ though," She called back dismally over her shoulder. "He _**loves**_ Mrs. Palmer's eggnog pie! By the time I was able to call last night, she said she already made the waiting list and couldn't take anyone else!"

"We'll make our own! How hard can it be—?" She replied high-spiritedly. During the holidays, Amata only became _more_ Amata; in another life she would've been planning legendary holiday parties full of great food, fun games, stellar decorations, and other typical festivities of the Christmas season to extremely positive reception.

"Your positivity's as inspiring as it is grating," Winona teased dryly as she swung her leg back over the top rung and carefully scaled her way down.

"I don't need your Parker sass right now." Amata laughed, taking her friend's hand when she was low enough on the ladder to just hop off, rather than step down the last handful of footholds.

"How're we even supposed to bake a pie, Amata? I can't bake a _potato._ Hell, I can't even bake _water!_ "

"You don't _bake_ water," She rolled her eyes playfully. "You _boil_ it."

"Well now, you just made my point."

" _Gee,_ sometimes I wonder how you got those A's out of Mr. Brotch..." Amata shook her head disapprovingly with her arms folded over her chest. "You can build something amazing out of nothing, and yet you don't know how to cook."

"What's the point when I get ration tokens from work? I'm too busy working or building my inventions to even _bother_ with it." Winona pointed out as she began to fold up the ladder and carefully manuvered it so it was laying on it's side on the ground.

"Well, why don't we go see Mrs. Palmer when you get off work tonight? We can ask if she'd share the recipe—... why're you looking at me like that?"

Winona was gaping at her with a dramatically deadpan look of a pursed mouth and half-lidded eyes. "Lucy Palmer doesn't _share_ her recipes. Not even _Jonas_ knows how she does her baking, and he's her _**grandson.**_ "

"All we're doing is asking her for her eggnog pie recipe, Winnie!" Amata argued doubtfully.

" _Might as well ask her for a kidney—_ " She muttered in a sarcastic breath.

"—It's not like we're asking her for her _greatest possession—_ "

"— _that's second to wishing for Vault Santa to make it snow._ "

"I say we give it a shot, anyway," Amata replied with flippant determination despite the cheeky remarks Winona ushered under her breath. "What's the worst that can happen?"

* * *

"I should've expected her to say ' _no_ '," Amata griped as the two girls walked side by side through the halls of the barracks, disheartened and disappointed.

"You tried your best," She reassured with a small smile. "Thanks anyway, Amata."

"And here I was hoping for a Christmas miracle." The darker-haired girl teased glumly. "Maybe we should offer to help her bake? We might learn a thing or two."

"But she might not let us do even _that._ She tries to keep her recipes hush-hush for a reason. If everyone had them, her treats wouldn't be as special, you know? It's one of the things we _all_ look forward to when Christmas comes around."

"Some of us even more than the tree lighting or Secret Santa," Amata smiled fondly. "...How about we ask her, anyway? Not for the recipe or free cookies, but just because we should—she looked like she was up to her elbows in cookie dough. As the resident grandmother she works _so hard_ every Christmas to make sure everyone's happy and I think that we don't give a lot back to her."

Winona smiled, nodding vigorously in wholehearted agreement. "Tis the season to be giving, huh?"

"Ta, la, la, la, laa~!"

"...I don't think that's how it goes, Amata."

"And _yet_ the Christmas spirit remains. Funny how that works."

"Well, well, well—if it ain't my _favorite_ twerp and the vault brat," Came the swell of Butch DeLoria's cocky tone from behind them. When the girls looked up from their conversation, he was gaining on them from the opposite end of the hall with Paul Hannon following closely behind.

"And it looks like our _least_ favorite idiots are down on a third of the brain they share!" Amata responded with chipper sarcasm, her arms folding tightly over her chest as she went on coldly. "Did Wally up and die, yet? If so, I guess Christmas wishes _can_ come true."

"What do you guys want?" Winona inquired pointedly. After losing the chance of getting her dad the _perfect_ Christmas gift, running into Butch when he looked like he was in the mood to cause trouble was the _last_ thing she needed. Paul's company she didn't mind anymore—since working together, he apologized for their past history and the two were closeted friends at work.

"Just saw you two _gal pals_ comin' outta Old Lady Palmer's place," Butch mused as he moved to circle around the two girls, leaving them trapped between him and Paul to block an escape route at either end of the hall. "'Ya wouldn't happen to have _picked up_ somethin' from the broad, would you? Paul and I here wouldn't mind takin' it off your hands for 'ya! _Would_ we, Paul?"

"Sure thing, Butch," Paul sniggered.

"Outta the goodness of our hearts and all." He smirked with a hand overlaying his chest in mock sympathy.

"Oh, yeah, sure—I have a sweet roll right here, you want half of it?" Winona resonded peevishly from her building agitation. The mentioning of the wounding memory for Butch wiped the cheeky smirk off his face, however, to her triumph.

" _Watch_ it, Professor Parker. You're lucky I'm in a good mood today."

"Well _that's_ a first," Amata remarked snidely.

"If you wanna do something out of the goodness of your heart, how about you leave us the hell alone? I have better things to do than stand around playing 'Monkey in the Middle' for something we don't even _have!_ " Winona snapped. Butch gave her a peculiar look with a slightly crooked brow.

"All you gotta do is say _please,_ " Paul laughed gleefully from the other side of the girls.

" _Please_ _ **bite me,**_ _Hannon._ " Amata grimaced.

" _Whatever,_ we got better things t'do, too—so don't get your granny panties in a twist _Old Lady Parker_." Butch huffed, snapping to Paul to get his attention and then nodded down the hall. "Let's go, Paul."

Paul shrugged and pushed past the two girls, dutifully following after his gang brother down the opposite way from where they appeared. Winona folded her arms over her chest and watched after them as they stalked off, still feeling the mild kindling of frustration that stoked at the fire of her temper.

"...You okay, Winona?" Amata asked worriedly. "You're really upset about your dad's gift, aren't you?"

"Dad talks about Mrs. Palmer's eggnog pie _**all**_ the time when the holidays come up. It's the only thing I can think of that he'd want and I _blew_ it!" Winona cried with the heel of her palm bopping her forehead. "I couldn't get Stanley to let me off of work for even a couple minutes to run down to Mrs. Palmer's—there's always something that needs to be fixed, or cleaned up, or hauled down to the incinerators! There's _always_ tickets to file and they never seem to _stop,_ " She released a heavy sigh with a crestfallen expression as she drew quiet. "...I dunno, I'm just being stupid and angry and ranty, now."

"You're _not_ ranting. There's a lot of hard work to be done in maintenance and it's a thankless job... half the time I think you work even harder than my father does." She squeezed her best friend into her arms in a tight, comforting hug, with one hand rubbing her upper back. "How about you head on home and get some sleep? You've had a long couple of weeks thanks to that purifier scare. I can help Mrs. Palmer."

"But I should help—" Winona insisted.

"You help enough. All day, all week, _all_ the time." She assured her with a warm smile. "You deserve a bit of down time. But if you _really_ want to help, let me know when's your next day off! We can go down together."

"I don't think Mrs. Palmer will still be making holiday treats in April," The inventor sighed defeatedly. Her best friend hugged her again with a goodnatured laugh.

"Go home, Winnie. Get some rest, grab some food—play a little music. Heck, see about getting a hot shower! Those always help me relax." Amata encouraged as she broke away, going back down the hall away from the living quarters. "My lunch break's about over, so I'll see you later!"

Winona waved despondently after her childhood friend as she turned the corner of the hall. Amata was right—she needed sleep. The last few months acquainted her with an exhaustion she never knew before the G.O.A.T. exam, and she was running herself ragged on the constant overtime and piling tickets. There was the constant joke of " _maintence workers run on 72 hour days"_ around Vault 101 but it was said in jest; no one thought that there was any merit behind it, even though she had the sore back and cut up, chapped hands to prove it.

The little inventor walked her way on through the living barracks back to her apartment. All the while her tired mind was worrying itself into further fatigue of what to give her father for Christmas, as the holiday rapidly approached with frightening speed.

* * *

 **December 20th, 2276**

Winona trod onward from the residential bathroom with a towel slung over her shoulder and her toothbrush tucked behind her ear. Tendrils of her freshly washed hair framed her face in drippy white locks as she walked back to her apartment in shower slippers and her bedtime suit, which hung off of her petite frame, as it was several sizes too big but that was just how she liked her pajamas.

 _It's been days and I **still** don't know what to get for dad,_ she thought glumly as she turned the corner of the hall and took her toothrbush from behind her ear. The towel was pulled from her shoulder to ruffle over her curls to dry them under one hand. _I can't get him another poster for his office, he has too many already. Maybe a new frame for mom's quote—? He likes that little bobblehead on his desk, maybe I could get it a friend... though I'm already giving one to Jonas so they have matching ones, I can't give dad **another** one. Ugh—! Why are the holidays so **frustrating?** I doubt I'll get even a **day** off!_

Winona was jerked to a halt as she neared her apartment and saw a white box sitting on the welcome mat outside her door. To come across the package was a peculiar thing for her, as she hadn't requested anything from downstairs in the last couple of weeks, and it wasn't the typical parchment paper wrapping her supervisor, Stanley, used. She wondered if it was a gift due to it being topped with an orange bow that was hilariously small for the size of the package. Coming closer and stooping down with her balance on the heels of her feet to pick it up, she examined the attached tag to find that it certainly _was_ a gift, and it was addressed to her!

 _Orange's a weird color to use for a Christmas gift,_ the white-haired girl mused as she gently shook the box to try and gauge what could be inside. It was rectangular in shape, sitting wide and squat, and about the size of a large dinner plate. It looked like a cake box.

Winona froze.

 _It—... It **can't** be—? _She wondered dubiously as it was swiftly taken into her apartment and set on the dining table to be opened.

Lifting the lid, the gobsmacked inventor was met with a _beautifully_ baked eggnog pie, simply decorated by a fake holly bunch in the center. Winona was overjoyed! How did this happen—?

 _Amata couldn't have—!_ Her mind fumbled as she ran into her room and picked up her Pip-Boy, reattaching it to her wrist by the biometric lock key so it powered on at the thrill of her pulse and she pulled up her messenger. She thumbed the controls of her Pip-Boy to scroll down through the last few entries of their chat before keying in a message to Amata at the very bottom;

* * *

— _ **Messenger Date:**_ **11/24/77—**

 _ **USERNAME change by ALMODOVAR, AMATA**_ **: Turkey Inspector** ** _to_ Vault's Cutest Elf ;) ( _07:23_ )**

 _ **snake slayer (09:55):** really_

 _ **snake slayer (09:56):** we just had thanksgiving_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf ;) (10:02):** :(_

 _ **snake slayer (11:13):** no winky face_

 _ **snake slayer (11:13):** its creepy_

 ** _USERNAME change by ALMODOVAR, AMATA_ : Vault's Cutest Elf ;) _to_ Vault's Cutest Elf ( _12:47_ )**

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (12:47):** be Christmasy with me, Winnie!_

 _ **snake slayer (12:55):** no_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (12:56):** do it or I'll make you go caroling with me!_

 ** _USERNAME change by PARKER, WINONA_ : snake slayer _to_ santa's sleigh mechanic ( _12:56_ )**

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:57):** ur the reason y i dont go out_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (12:57):** 3_

 _ **USERNAME change by PARKER, WINONA:**_ **Vault's Cutest Elf _to_ suckitalmodovar ( _12:59_ )**

 _ **suckitalmodovar (13:03):** now you're just being rude_

 _ **USERNAME change by PARKER, WINONA:**_ **suckitalmodovar** ** _to_ Vault's Cutest Elf ( _13:05_ )**

* * *

— ** _Messenger Date:_ 12/16/77—**

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (12:30):** on break! are you free?_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:32):** wanna help decorate?_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (12:33):** I'll take that as a no, haha!_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (12:34):** I'm coming, though_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:34):** atatrium_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:35):** ur dads singing in his office_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:36):** rendition of feliz navidad -95/10_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:36):** its scaring roaches_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:37):** vault halls collapsed_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:38):** children cry_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:38):** only way 2 save xmas is 2 bring lunch_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (12:41):** ok, ok! no need to threaten me with more of my dad's singing!_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:43):** singing frosty the snowman now_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:44):** 2 late 4 me_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:44):** save urself_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (12:45):** very funny :(_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (12:46):** like his dancing_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (12:46):** oh my God! I'm on my way from the diner!_

* * *

— _ **Messenger Date:**_ **12/20/77—**

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (19:03):** how did u do it_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (19:07):** do what?_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (19:07):** the pie?_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (19:08):** ?_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (19:08):** PIE 4 DAD?_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (19:09):** came back from shower & was at door_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (19:09):** what?!_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (19:09):** sorry Winnie but it wasn't me! :(_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (19:10):** did it have a card with it?_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (19:10):** maybe Mrs. Palmer changed her mind and made it for you_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (19:11):** no card, will ask 2mrw_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (19:14):** I hate it when you write with numbers_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (19:15):** d035 th15 m4k3 u unc0mf0rt4bl3_

 _ **Vault's Cutest Elf (19:16):** EW STOP?_

 _ **santa's sleigh mechanic (19:16):** t00 b4d_

* * *

Winona looked back to the eggnog pie on her dining table after closing the chat in her Pip-Boy, examining it with a bewildered gaze before shutting the lid to the box. Unable to shake off her amazement at the turn of events, she quickly dried her hair and went to her bedroom to pull on proper clothes to head to the cafeteria; the pie would need to be refridgered until she could give it to her dad, and the walk would help her think. Whoever gave it to her definitely wanted to remain anonymous if they didn't include a sender signature on the addressed tag, which was just as curious as to how they managed to get the dessert so close to Christmas.

 _It must've been planned—it's too late to just get one now without an order,_ she reasoned thoughtfully, _I wonder if Mrs. Palmer would tell me who it's from?..._

* * *

 **December 21st, 2277**

"Let me take a look at my orders, dearie—get my reading glasses on..." Mrs. Palmer cooed as she held a scribbled list in her wrinkled hands, which were tinged slightly red and green from mixing icing. The little kitchenette in her apartment didn't fare any better than her flour-clapped and raggedy apron did, as it was covered in utensils and mixing bowls, piping bags of frosting, and various baking ingredients littered about in their containers. The workspace was clean, but absolutely cluttered with the juggling of multiple orders and the sink was full of more dirty baking dishes and sheets.

"Sorry to bother you like this, Mrs. Palmer. I just _really_ needed to know who sent it to me." Winona regarded her politely as she stood in the entryway of the apartment and took greedy inhales of the baking smells; freshly baked cookies, fruits spiced with cinnamon, orange and cloves... and there was definitely a pumpkin pie baking in the oven that the inventor didn't mind sampling.

"Oh, nonsense! I could use the break!" She chuckled tiredly. "Eggnog pie, you say?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Let's see... ah, here we go—yes I had three requests for eggnog pie," The elderly woman squinted behind her glasses. "I took one order from the Holdens, one order from Mrs. Taylor, and one from your old teacher, Mr. Brotch. Oh—! And Senior's boy, Paul." She gave Winona a wry smile. "It was a last minute order, but he said it was for his father and I can't say no to an officer's son, you know. Security does so much during the holiday."

"Alright. Thanks Mrs. Palmer, I'll see myself out." Winona deflated upon hearing the names. "Unless you want some help in here—? I've got time before my shift starts."

"That's very sweet of you dearie, but there are some _top secret_ things that go on behind my front door," She exclaimed merrily despite how exhausted she looked. "I've done just fine on my own every year and I'm not slowing down any time soon!"

"Are you sure?" She asked with her gaze panning over the chaos of the kitchen.

" _Positive._ Now run along, and enjoy yourself before work. I hear things, you know—and I know all of you downstairs have been worked right to your finger bones with all the fixing up this old vault needs. Tell Stanley I said hello and to make _sure_ he eats!"

"Will do, Mrs. Palmer. You can call and Amata and I if you change your mind about needing a hand," Winona insisted thinly with a kind smile, waving in goodbye as she turned to the door. "Have a good afternoon—I'll be seeing you at the tree lighting ceremony."

"I wouldn't miss it for _anything!_ " The older woman agreed before she hummed on in song, turning back to her kitchen with a barely audible sigh as the inventor took her leave.

Winona stepped out into the hall with the door drawing cleanly shut behind her, and walked onward toward the reactor level. The names that she was given was a head scratcher, as none of the people listed were people who would have gifted it to her! Paul, perhaps, but that was a long shot; no one but Amata and Jonas knew that she was trying to get an eggnog pie for her father, and further more, Paul had gotten the dessert for _his own_ dad. If anyone in the vault was half the baker that Lucy Palmer was, Winona wouldn't have been figuratively tearing her hair out over trying to find out who gave her the immensely insightful and kind gift! She wanted to find that person and thank them, as well as find out how they knew about her struggle because it was _too_ much of a coincidence.

 _What if Jonas ordered one and told her not to tell? He knew I was trying to get it for dad, after all._ The white-haired girl pondered but then shook her head. _Unlikely, the guy's an **awful** liar. He couldn't do it if it'd save his life._

This mystery called for time alone downstairs where no one would bother her; her shooting range was a constant place of quiet, even though she hadn't touched her BB gun since she was 13. It was the only place she could go where no one knew to look for her, just so she could be alone with her thoughts. Not Amata, not Stanley, not all the responsibilities that burdened her shoulders. _No one._

"Hey there, _Snowflake,_ " A voice ahead of her called.

...No one except Butch DeLoria, apparently.

Winona's walk faltered momentarily when she saw him standing at the mouth of stairwell that led down to the reactor level. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips as he propped himself up on the wall with a boot braced against it, with hands stuck in his leather jacket pockets. The iridescent blue of his eyes gazed back at her from under a bored, half-lidded stare.

"What're _you_ doing around here?" She inquired suspiciously.

"Holdin' this wall up," Butch nodded to it with a cheeky smirk. " _Someone's_ gotta do it."

"Sounds like you're lost."

"I ain't lost."

"Then _get_ lost."

Butch snorted in a barely contained laugh as he took his cigarette and tucked it behind his ear. "Professor Smartass, my _favorite_ Professor."

"Good. Class is in session, and today's lesson is about Tunnel Snakes and their habits of hanging around in places they _shouldn't_ be." She replied back with thick sarcasm.

"You think you run this hall, Dimples?"

"Do _you?_ "

"It's all in the name— _Tunnel Snakes_ , so watch it, girl." Butch replied with a nonthreatening hiss.

"I'm absolutely _trembling._ " Winona responded flippantly with her arms folded under her chest.

"Yeah, like a fuckin' rock." He straightened up from the wall to draw himself up to his full height and popped the collar of his jacket with quick snaps of his wrists. "Why don'cha watch my wall for me, huh? Reminded me that I got shit t'do."

"I'm sure it'll be here when you get back," She rolled her eyes as she moved to go down the stairs as the gang member walked away without another word, but she stopped to watch after him curiously.

Butch seemed a little— _... unlike_ himself. Not as angry as usual with half his typical bite, almost as if they were having casual back and forth banter instead of an expected cannon-fire war whenever they saw each other. She prepared herself at the immediate moment she heard his voice, and apparently, it was all for nothing as he walked off the battlefield with his typical " _like I care_ " lazy-cool step to his gait.

 _Odd,_ the inventor thought before shaking her head to dismiss the thought as she continued down the stairs. Before she could go too far, she heard Paul's voice piping up in echoing reverb from the hallway corner above, away from the stairwell.

" _Butch, man, what's with all the orange stuff 'ya gave me this mornin'?_ "

Winona immediately stopped on the landing from what she heard; _Orange—?_ _What 'orange stuff'?_ And then clambered back up the stairs to peek down the hallway where she saw the two gang members talking. Paul was dressed in his work jumpsuit, which was covered in sewn up tears and old grease stains shaped like smudged hand prints. His red sneakers had frayed laces and were scuffed up as much as his uniform was. Butch regarded his den brother with an eyebrow-cocked gaze.

" _Hey, 'ya asked for wrapping paper and shit, I didn't say it'd be Christmas colors._ "

" _Your mom know orange ain't a Christmas color?"_ Paul laughed kind-heartedly. " _Shit, man, all my presents are gunna have orange ribbons on it. Why's your mom only got orange, anyway?"_

Butch bobbed his shoulders in a shrug and looked down the hall and replaced his cigarette in his mouth, taking a matchbox from his jumpsuit pocket to light it. _"Guess the other colors were sold out or whatever, I dunno."_

" _Well—... better than nothing, I guess. Good thing my old man likes orange."_

The conversation trailed on to more menial topics Winona didn't register on as she pulled back into the stairwell to hide again. The thoughts of that orange ribbon atop the pie box came back to her as the gang members talked about specifically _orange_ wrapping and ribbons. Clamped against the wall as she was rocked by her own astonishment, she didn't know what to think—it couldn't have been _possible—_ that _**Butch DeLoria**_ was the one who gave her that gift! It didn't make sense!

 _Mrs. Palmer said only the Holdens, Mr. Brotch, and Mrs. Taylor bought one... and Paul! He bought a pie for his dad, it was the only reason why Mrs. Palmer took his order._ Winona chanced a peek around the corner again to see that Butch and Paul were gone, having walked away elsewhere. _How'd he even **get** the pie? How'd he even know I wanted an eggnog pie for dad? Was it by chance?_

The little inventor bit her lip in thought, running scenarios through her head of how it could've all happened— _why_ it did—why Butch would do such a thing. There wasn't something wrong with the pie, was there? He could've put something in it, but it didn't look like it'd been tampered with... what was she going to do? Call him out on it? Ask him _why?_ Would he even be _**honest?**_

As Winona got up from the stair she was perched on and hopped down the remaining ones to the shooting range, she was resolved on the determination to confront the Serpent King. She'd need the quiet of her abandoned shooting gallery to think about what to do, and whether she would need to _thank_ Butch DeLoria—or _put him in his_ _ **place**_ **.**

* * *

 **December 24th, 2276**

Vault 101's atrium was bustling with the entirety of the vault population—donning handmade Christmas hats or crowns twisted from sparkling garlands, pins decorating the breasts of their jumpsuits, young children were running about dressed in angel gowns with halo headbands askew on their heads—crowded about the gargantuan Christmas tree that towered up to the second floor ceiling. It was decorated in massive glass ornaments painted gold, silver, red, blue, and white, strung with bubble candle lights, and tinsel icicles draped from the branches in fluffy glimmering strings. They all waited with excited apprehension for the annual tree lighting ceremony, but the Overseer was, currently, nowhere in sight despite the congregation that collected in mass below his office's window. The residents happily chatted over cups of warm drinks, sang Christmas songs (a small cluster of dwellers swelled beautifully with ' _O Come, All Ye Faithful'_ and more carolers were joining the longer they sang), and greeted each other with warm wishes and hugs.

The tree lighting ceremony also brought with it an old vault tradition; the tradition of bringing small gifts for those you loved and were grateful for or fond of. They were typically things that would be useful or practical instead of material, like a pair of thick socks, small sewing kits to patch holes in jumpsuits, new bootlaces, a lunch box, batteries, anything one could think of that someone could use daily.

Winona gazed up at the Christmas tree as she skirted around people in the crowd, staring at the beautiful glass star that topped it as she fixed the elf hat on her head with a bag in her arms. It held a few small gifts that she was meaning to give to her dad, Amata, Jonas, Stanley and Floyd, Freddie and his folks, a small something for Paul since they were on friendly terms in having to work together every day...

Then there was a small gift at the very bottom that went unnamed. That one was for a ' _just in case'_ scenario that she heavily considered if things with Butch went well.

"Winnie! _Winona_ , over here!" Amata's arm waved above the head of the crowd and Winona rushed to greet her. The girls crushed each other in a tight hug before withdrawing with laughter, realizing that they were wearing the exact same elf hat.

"Merry- _almost-_ Christmas, Amata." Winona smiled at her when their laughter died down.

"Merry-almost-Christmas!" Her best friend cried in response, gesturing to the bag of gifts she was carrying. "Big load this year, huh?"

"Holidays make you realize there's more people in your life you're thankful for than you thought," She nodded and dug into the pack to withdraw a present for her. It was wrapped in maintenance parchment with a green bow. "Secret Santa! The secret's that _I'm Santa._ "

Amata laughed gleefully as she took the wide, thin box and brushed a hand over the ribbon excitedly. "Can I open it now—?"

" _No,_ you've gotta wait until _next_ Christmas." She replied dryly but Amata was already tearing apart the wrapping, her smile growing wider the more she saw of her gift until it came free—a folded, plush burgundy blanket. It was small enough to drape over one's shoulders, which the darker-haired girl did happily.

"Is this because I complain all the time about my office being cold?" She asked, grinning.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I'd get you a blanket! Sorry I can't fix some of your lazy coworkers while I'm at it," Winona grinned back at her.

"I'll get to _them_ this year, just you wait!" Amata laughed as she offered a small box that had been tucked under her arm during the entirety of their conversation. It was wrapped much nicer than Winona's gift to her had been, with red paper and furls of gold ribbon. "Now yours!"

Winona took it gratefully and opened it right there, tearing apart the wrapping and parting open the box. There was a moment of confusion upon looking down at her gift before she broke into laughter when she realized what they were.

"Are these _knee pads?_ "

"They sure are! You're on your knees all the time, climbing through vents or under the reactor grates to fix things. Figured these would make work more tolerable for you when you're on your knees a lot." Amata chimed as she tapped a finger on one of the black, cushiony knee pads. "It's more of a little gag gift than anything, but I hope you still get _some_ use out of them."

"Get a little paint on these and I'll be a _nightmare_ with a wrench."

"You already _are!_ " Amata chuckled and the girls hugged tightly again. "Merry Christmas, best friend."

"Merry Christmas, best friend." Winona parroted warmly back to her before the girls parted. "Gotta make my rounds before the tree lighting ceremony, so I should get the lead out. I'll find you?"

"Sure thing! And you better stick around for the surprise!" She tutted sternly, but the inventor only gave a quizzical look.

"Surprise? _What_ surprise?"

"You'll see if you stick around! I mean it, no running off to work because of some ' _emergency'_ like a roach in the bathroom, or a clog in the diner sink, or a fried terminal or anything else. It's important— _really_ important, and I'm not exaggerating this time!" Amata tugged the blanket closer around her shoulders with her palms brushing over the soft material appreciatively.

"Alright, alright—it's a code red, I'm not going anywhere." Winona promised.

"Good! I'll see you around the tree—oh, and stay away from the doors, I think someone was putting up mistletoe or something as a silly joke. Probably Butch and his gang of idiots to cause trouble." She shook her head disapprovingly before walking away with a wave, carrying with her a bag that was much larger than Winona's, and full of presents that were just as beautifully wrapped as hers had been.

"Will do, now go spread Christmas cheer, Vault's Cutest Elf!" Amata snorted in a loud laugh at the remark as some fellow residents looked on in confusion.

Winona looked on around the atrium to admire the other decorations, which she—with the help of Paul since Stanley was too old to climb ladders anymore—put up wherever they could, making the walls, railings, and ceilings as glimmering and embellished as the Christmas tree was. Fake cottony snow lingered over the upper railings with waving drapes of gold and blue tinsel, the massive wreath ringed the Overseer's office window, where Winona could still see him peddling about with files in his arms while mumbling Christmas songs idly to himself, and more cardboard cut outs of Christmas figures were taped to various walls; Santa Claus, reindeer and rudolph, elves, presents, Christmas trees, bells, angels, the works. She always wondered what angels had to do with the holiday season.

Passing her view of admiring the decorations was Paul in a Santa hat, and she quickly grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Paul, hey!"

"Oh—! Hey, Winona!" He greeted cheerfully after looking around to make sure his den brothers weren't around. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," She chuckled with a mental eye roll of good humor when she saw him looking around, then dug her hand into her bag to retrieve his present. "Here, this is for you. Something small. Since we're kinda friends now and all, it's not a big deal."

Paul took the gift with a beaming grin of all teeth and handed off a small gift to her in return. It was wrapped haphazardly and had a rather odd shape to it that she couldn't guess just by feeling it. They opened their gifts in unison, with him unwrapping a jar of holding pomade and her a headscarf that was a deep emerald green, her _favorite_ color, with a gold and white pattern. There was something giggle-inducing about how they got the other person some kind of hair product.

"And what's _this_ for?" She teased playfully. "It's not because of my hair, is it?"

"Oh, gee, no!" Paul exclaimed, blanching. "Just 'cause your hair's always in your face when we're workin'—"

"I'm _joshing_ you, Hannon." Winona laughed and the tall boy relaxed immediately, smiling.

"This is some good shit, 'ya know." He claimed with his thumb drumming against the lid of the pomade jar. "Butch says this'll be good for my 'hair type', whatever _that_ means. Keeps everything in place. Does he know you got this for me—?"

"No, Jonas picked it up for me." She smiled proudly. "So don't worry. What DeLoria doesn't know won't hurt you."

"Good," He released a relieved breath.

"Speaking of Butch, he isn't around, is he?" Winona questioned casually as she tucked her new headwear into her bag, along with her new knee pads, for safe keeping.

"Nah. Probably won't be here 'til _waaay_ later, said he had some stuff t'do for his mom."

"That right?"

"That's right," He confirmed with a dopey bob of his head. When he looked past Winona, he stammered out a follow up response upon seeing Wally walk in through the side door of the atrium. "I g- gotta go—"

"Hey, when the brotherhood calls." She teased sarcastically and he smiled in thanks, rushing away with another quick " _Merry Christmas!_ " before he was swallowed by the gathered crowd.

 _Now'll be the perfect time to stop by to see Butch. Can't do it with so many people around watching... and plus, he always tends to be more honest when no one's watching. I'll be back before Amata even knew I was gone!_ Winona mused as she glanced around the open room to make sure no one was looking her way.

Sneaking toward the exit door that would take her the fastest way to the atrium, it shut behind her before she stopped to tie up the pack of gifts she brought with her. When she looked up again, Butch was coming down the hallway with his hands straightening out his jacket and smoothing down the creases of his jumpsuit. He skid to a halt upon seeing her with a suspicious thought lingering in his eyes, as they stared silently at one another.

"Can I get my face back or what, Parker?" He was the first to speak, and a little bitingly sarcastic at that.

"Hey, you can _keep_ it." She responded smoothly before coming towards him. "Were you sneezing on the way up here, by any chance?"

"Why, you been thinkin' about me? I'm _touched._ " Butch mocked with a snigger.

"Why'd you leave that pie at my door?"

The unexpectedly sudden (and startling) question caused the Serpent King to react in a peculiar way—his jaw flexed slightly, his shoulders stiffened under the leather of his jacket, but his expression remained almost coolly indifferent. The inventor knew her childhood nemesis as well as she knew her best friend—since they were children—in a deeper way than she could've known anyone else—and she _knew_ he was subtly covering up a reaction only _she_ would have noticed through her perceptive nature.

Plus, he was always mildly predictable in her eyes.

"Dunno what you're talkin' about." He replied in what sounded like a prepared response.

"So it _wasn't_ you that put that eggnog pie at my door? With an orange ribbon? With my _name_ on it?" She prodded further, stepping closer to him but he refused to retreat.

"Nope. Can't say it was me." He blandly insisted but she could see he was getting a little uncomfortable.

"Really? Then it _wasn't_ you on the tape?" Winona lied unrepentantly. She thought about catching him in his lie by saying _Paul_ told her, but she didn't want to get the kid in trouble, and there was the chance that Butch wouldn't believe that his loyal best friend would out him.

But—... Butch blinked at her lie, and she knew she had him.

"...Tape? What tape?" He asked with a puzzled kind of dread.

"Oh, _you know,_ from the camera I put on my door? I build things, I'm not an idiot." She replied in an almost sagely kind of manner.

"I _know_ you ain't an idiot—I mean—" Butch bowed his head with his hand pinching his nose. " _Shit,_ " He mumbled.

"So it _was_ you!" The inventor cried. "Did you _put_ something in it?"

"What—? The fuck, no—!" He snapped, appalled.

"What was even the point? Is this some weird joke?"

"It ain't like that—"

"Did you do it to freak me out, then? Make me _think_ you put something in it?"

"— _why_ would I put somethin' in it, Parker!—" Butch grimaced, his voice raising over hers in annoyance at the badgering questions that were interrupting her.

" _ **Why?**_ Why did you do it?"

" _Because you wanted one!_ " The gang leader barked finally at a volume that immediately silenced her. "I heard 'ya tellin' Almodovar that you were all bent outta shape 'cause you couldn't get it for your old man, so I got one!"

Winona gaped at Butch DeLoria in astonishment. He—... gifted her the eggnog pie because he saw how upset she was about it and felt genuinely _bad?_ Bad enough to, somehow, miraculously find a way to get one for her? She was almost _convinced_ that he was lying but the pinkening of his cheeks told her otherwise, as he was obviously embarassed at being caught, and further more, his eyes wouldn't even met with her face.

"...How? How'd you do it?" Winona murmured after a moment of stunned silence.

"Paul got it for me, okay?" Butch admitted as the toe of his boot scuffed at the floor. "Told Old Lady Palmer that he wanted it for his old man. Was the only way she'd make it."

"Butch—" She began but was unsure of how to continue. "I—... what you did—... why you did it, I don't know. But thank you. I know my dad's going to love it." A smile came to her face, wide enough to flash her dimples, and the delinquent grew noticeably redder around the ears. "He talks about it the _moment_ October hits and won't shut up about it until January."

"You tell _anyone_ I did this and I'll _pound 'ya,_ twerp. You hear me?" He pointed an angered finger in her face but the mentioned blushing of his ears didn't make the warning seem at all threatening.

Winona's hand capped itself over his and gently pushed it out of her face where it remained between them.

"If anyone asks," She smiled up at him with their eyes finally meeting. "I'll tell them it was a Christmas miracle."

"...Some kinda Christmas miracle," He snorted in awkward, embarrassed fashion. "Shoulda asked for a really cool hammer or somethin', Professor Smartmouth."

Winona laughed with a small shake of her head and their eyes were ducked from each other suddenly with mutually shy smiles. When they noticed that Winona's hand was still overlaying his with the tips of her fingers cupping his palm, they quickly withdrew their intertwined hands but the distance between their bodies didn't widen at all—almost lingering closer to one another than they had been seconds earlier.

" _Everyone, gather 'round, gather 'round! The tree lighting ceremony will begin momentarily!"_ They snapped their heads up at the sound of the Overseer's voice booming through a microphone.

"You—..." Winona pointed at the door leading back to the atrium. "Tree lighting?"

"Like I ain't see it about 20 times already," Butch griped and she smirked, grabbing his arm to forcibly pull him toward the door with her. It opened readily and they were standing at the back of the gathered 101'rs, who stood at attention where they could see the Overseer standing on a podium at the base of the Christmas tree, with a microphone in hand.

" _Today marks a wonderous time of year—Christmas Eve. A day where we come together in unity to partake in the charming traditions of old, where we give as much as we get in kindness, love, and patience, and are once again reminded of all the things we should be thankful to have! To have food, to have safety and comfort, to have friends and family, and most importantly it reminds us of the gratitude we should have for those that make Vault 101 a little bit brighter on all the other 364 days of the year. With that, I would like to call miss Lucy Palmer up here to join me._ "

Mrs. Palmer was at the front, wrapped in a festive scarf beside her grandson, Jonas, and she looked _completely_ surprised at the turn of events as she gazed back to the clapping crowd. Jonas ushered her toward the podium with a proud grin on his face as she stood beside the Overseer.

" _Lucy, you have always been loyal to this vault and have upheld all the values that we cherish. There's no matter of who does or doesn't deserve your kindness, your love, and your patience. You are constantly working to better life for everyone and it's been brought to my attention that you deserve more recognition in this regard._ " The Overseer explained. " _For the last almost 200 years, at every tree lighting ceremony this vault has had, the Overseer has been the one to initiate the lighting. It'd give me the greatest of pleasure, and the highest of honors, to ask if **you** would light the tree for us this Christmas._"

With that, the Overseer handed to her the toggle switch on a small box wired to the Christmas tree. Mrs. Palmer took it with hands that trembled in bewildered excitement as a teary smile came to her face, and her wrinkled hand was clasped to her mouth as she tried not to let those tears run free. The Overseer gestured back to the tree with his free hand to notify her that she could initiate the ceremony whenever she was ready, and without a moment further of hesitation, the toggle was flipped and the enormous tree flooded the entire room with a magnificent display of bubble lights glittering off of every decoration the atrium held. It glinted off the ornaments, the strings of tinsel, the fake snow—washing the room in dancing golden glows and Winona found near tears coming to her own eyes as a wide smile overcame her own face as she loudly clapped. There was another round of cheers and whistles for Mrs. Palmer, who was freely crying now, as the Overseer tried handing her the microphone to make a speech.

 _Some kinda surprise, Amata._ She thought, extremely impressed.

"Never thought you'd see the day, huh?" Butch casually conversed as he nodded toward the podium. "Guy's probably been infected by all this Christmas shit. He's being too _nice._ I don't trust it."

"If Christmas is a sickness, he's _definitely_ infected. I caught him singing Christmas songs the other day." Winona admitted as she quickly dabbed the tears away with a thumb to each eye.

"...You're fuckin' _joking,_ " He was grinning with his eyes still trained ahead. "He any good?"

"You know that sound radroaches make when Andy roasts them? That. He sounds like that. But like, if it was a whole _bunch_ of them being set on fire at once."

The two laughed in unison at this as the crowd before them continued on with their cheering for Mrs. Palmer. Jonas met her on the stage to help calm her with a congratulatory hug and she was composed enough to offer a heartwarming speech that was still riddled with more tears. The two, inventor and snake, brainiac and delinquent, finally looked at each other with small smiles that said more to the other than what they could ever actually speak.

"Hey, I—uh—got you something. Don't open it until tomorrow, though." Winona instructed as she dug quickly into her bag and handed him a narrow, rectangular box... that had the very same orange ribbon on it that the pie box did.

"What's in it?" Butch asked, shaking it experimentally. She nearly snatched it back from him with a laugh and he bumped her away with a hand on her shoulder. " _Hey, hey, **hey!**_ This is mine, get your own!"

"I would, but this one's one-of-a-kind." She explained with a grin and a shake of her head as her eyes flickered upward to the dazzling lights on the Christmas tree. Instead, they caught a floret of ribboned mistletoe above their heads.

Butch noticed it too, as he was suddenly reaching up to yank down the holly from where it was pinned.

" _Stupid, **damn**_ **—** been findin' this dumb shit _everywhere—_ you wouldn't know anythin' about this, _woulja Parker?_ "

She couldn't reply as she was up on her toes with a hand braced on his arm to keep herself steady, while planting a kiss against his cheek. He was too stunned to respond or pull away from her, only gaping with wide eyes and a renewed red blush in his cheeks and ears when she set herself back down on her feet and supplied him with a warmed smile.

"Can't say that I do. I'll see you around, DeLoria—Merry Christmas."

Winona turned away to disappear into the large assembly of residents to find Amata as Butch looked on, thunderstruck by the little white-haired and deeply dimpled inventor. When he had his faculties about him again, he removed the gift from his pocket and with a scoff—because _damn_ he wasn't waiting until _tomorrow_ to open up a supposed 'one-of-a-kind' gift from Winona _fucking_ Parker!—he impatiently tore the box open and was marveled by what laid inside.

A brand new switchblade sharpener, meticulously engraved with _**Serpent King**_ on the handle.

 _Merry Christmas, 'ya damn freak._ Butch thought with a genuinely heartfelt smile on his hot face.


End file.
